Page 41 of In the Light of the Moon
“And?”
“While I was waiting for the police to show up, I… I heard the whispers again.”
“From the fungi? Well, that’s splendid, sweetheart. Seems like your power is blossoming again. What did they say?” I caught her grandmother’s gaze in the rearview mirror, and her question from earlier plagued my mind. Yes, when was I goingto tell my mate? One, that she evenwasmy mate. And two, that I wasn’t human. If she was able to speak to ghosts and hear whispers from… mushrooms? She was going to be able to detect that I wasn’t human soon enough.
Sylvie turned back to look at her grandmother, and her words made my heart drop into my stomach all over again. “They said that the wolves killed her.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Sylvie
The witch raised her dagger, hilt to the dark sky above. Her eyes rolled back in ecstasy at the screaming offering at her feet. A surge of power, just a taste of what was to come, made tears fall from her eyes. Yes, she was blessed.
She brought the blade down, piercing skin, muscle, bone. The heart of the one who thought themselves innocent pumped hot, thick blood, and it began to pool around the shining steel of her dagger.
I paused, trying to think of the facial expression of the dying man, and rubbed a knuckle between my brows. I’d been sitting in the sun room all morning, but the words weren’t flowing.
Granna padded into the room, two mugs held in one hand while her other arm was wrapped around her middle. She wore a sweaterandheld a blanket around her body in addition to the fuzzy slippers on her feet. Autumn was fully upon us, and it felt delightful with the cooler air and bright sun streaming through the windows.
I gladly took the proffered tea and the opportunity at distraction.
“How’s it coming, sweetheart?” She took a sip from her mug after sitting at the other end of the sofa. She shivered as the tea warmed her.
I snapped my laptop shut and placed it on the coffee table. Tucking my knees to my chest, I took a drink. “Difficult today. So maybe I just need a break.” The new story centered around a witch and her coven, which I thought would be an interesting direction. But the events of earlier this week were still leaving me off-kilter. After the police arrived, Kara’s ghost had followed me into the cruiser and to the station. But, when she saw her family, she quickly left my side, and I hadn’t seen her since. I hoped that she was able to move on.
I went out to the mushrooms every morning since, and when I bent down to listen, they continued to speak. It wasn’t any language that I could consciously respond with, but when I asked them questions, they answered with words that made sense to my mind. They told of the early frost that would come. Where I could find wild fruits before the harvesting season ended.
When I asked about the wolves, they said that only one wolf came close to the house. A white wolf.
But I’d never heard any howling, never saw droppings or evidence of a wolf marking the stretch of woods around our house as their territory. That particular message from the fungi caused an anxiety and caffeine driven research dive into the behavior of wolves. I was surprised to find that they generally steered clear of humans, and if I was correct in assuming that Kara was reliving her final moments when she was running in terror before my presence reminded her that she was already dead, then something vicious had been chasing her.
Could she have provoked a pack somehow? Threatened their young?Thattheory took me down another rabbit hole of wolf mating and breeding habits, only to find that wolves generally gave birth in the spring.
And then I thought again of what Granna mentioned offhandedly before school started. “Um… Granna. Do werewolves exist?”
Her body stiffened for a blink, and then she schooled her expression. So, that was a yes, then. “Sure they do, sweetheart. Though, I’ve been told by several that they hate that title.” She paused to put her mug on the coffee table. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, when the mushrooms—”I scrubbed a hand over my face “—I feel so ridiculous saying that. Anyway, when they said that wolves killed Kara, I thought they meant, you know,wolfwolves. But what if they just saw…” I waved my free hand around helplessly.
“Wolf shifters.”
“Okay, yeah, wolf shifters. What if they were just shifted into wolves when they killed her? Right? That would explain why she was running and so scared. And,” I swallowed, “it might explain the bone I saw. It had teethmarks.”
Granna nodded, and the bun on her head began to come loose. While she released and began twisting it back up again, her tone took on that of when she was teaching me. “Well, that’s certainly possible. And based on what you’ve seen and heard, it seems like the clearest explanation. Wolf shifter packs are generally very tight-knit and insular groups. They have their own leader?—”
“The alpha?”
She waved my guess away with a bobby pin in her grip, “No. That’s a word humans attached to wolves for some reason. Most just say Pack Leader. Or their specific group has a word that has roots for them. Anyway, they have their own traditions and rulesand manner of governing themselves. And their own ways of doling out justice. I’m wondering if your classmate disrespected or angered the pack in some way.”
“So thereisa pack here. A group of wolf shifters?”
Granna shrugged like this wasn’t the most interesting lesson she’d ever given me. “Yes. They call themselves the Antler Pointe Pack, which is highly original,” she rolled her eyes.
“And who’s in it? Anyone I know?” I tried to think back to all the people I’d met, but I didn’t even know where to begin to identify someone that could just casually change into a wolf.
She pursed her lips and patted her bun to make sure it was secure. “I can’t tell you that, sweetheart.”
My head jerked backward, tea sloshing in my mug and spilling down the side. “Why the hell not? Shouldn’t I be informed to help find the ones that did this to Kara? She didn’t deserve to be chased down and eaten Granna, be serious.”
